Millerson left the following day with the knight and Ereg, who stated he wished to see Duinbar again and begged leave to travel with them.  It was a three day journey on foot so they acquired horses from a farmer who often loaned his horses on such occasions.  The knight had his own horse.  At first Millerson was brusque with the old man, but when he saw Ereg could set a horse well and keep up, he was silent, considering it possible that he just might be an elf after all.

    They arrived in Duinbar the next evening and were welcomed by friends of the knights at the Mariners Inn and given lodging for as long as they wished.  It had been quite a long time since Ereg/Starfoot had visited Duinbar and though he found much changed, many things were the same. The town was bigger and did more traffic on the river but many names he remembered, though these were great and great great grandchildren of those he had known.  He spoke of this only to the knight in private while Millerson visited his cousins in the Magistrate's keeping.

    Millerson, for his part, listened to the bitter whining of his eldest cousin, the rambling legal discourse of his second and the sullen observations of the younger two.  He could do nothing for them but listen and leave them to the mercy of the court, advising them to accept the judgment passed on them and bide their time until they were free, at which point they would be on their own.  He doubted he would be in a position to help them then any more than he was now in spite of promises made by powerful acquaintances.  He warned them to bide their time until his fortunes turned around.  The next day he returned to Barad Lomin and kept his appointment with the goblin two days later.

    "Well, where is the elf?"

    "With a knight in Duinbar.  Heard you of my kinsmen?"

    "Yes.  Too bad they were caught.  Bring the elf with you to our next meeting.  We will be waiting for him.  Twenty of us should be sufficient for one elf."

    "No doubt.  What hear you of your kin?  Are they coming?

    The ogre sneered.  "They are coming but only by twos and threes.  We will not again pass by the elvish woods or risk moving in greater numbers until we know we can do so safely."

    "Still biding time, just as I told my cousins."

    "That is right.  You should do the same.   Though we arrive in smaller numbers, still we are here, and more than 35 are we now.  Be not too hurried to grasp what you want.  Even I know a premature reach often loses all."

    "Perhaps.  But you’ve not such a limited life span.  We will bide time until time runs out.  Sometimes the choice is either to grasp prematurely, or not at all."

    "You need not fear that.  We will see to it that you get your chance," said the ogre and proceeded to teach Millerson some of the finer points of manipulating events to his advantage. Though goblins were not known for wisdom, some there were, crafty beyond measure, who, to mortals of a greedy, grasping nature,might pass as wise.  This goblin was one such creature, to whom Millerson listened willingly.

    In the days following Ereg’s return from Duinbar, Millerson feigned friendship, inviting him to walk and talk as if he really would hear what the old man had to say.  For his part, Ereg was somewhat amused and curious as to Millerson's true purpose.  He went along, answering questions and conversing as if he doubted not that Millerson had become a true penitent for all his past misdeeds, though Millerson only weakly said such.

    One evening, as they walked the road south of town, Millerson paused at a stone road marker, making as if to gaze at the stars while Ereg pointed out the constellations as the elves knew them, comparing them to the names given them by men.  Suddenly a dark shape appeared near the road, followed by several others.  Now the true nature of the creatures could not be hidden from an elf such as Ereg Elendal, for as a spirit being contained in a physical form, living in two worlds at once, he was able to discern from afar who, or what, approached.  The instant Ereg knew what came toward them, he saw Millerson's purpose as if it were a map drawn in the middle of the road.  He glanced once toward Millerson, who shifted his feet uncomfortably at the glimmer which now was in the "old man's" eye.  A false cry of fear died on Millerson's lips and escaped only as a sigh.

    With a rush the goblins were upon them.  In an instant Starfoot threw off his disguise and spread his arms high overhead, blazing forth with a light blinding to the goblins eyes, causing them to fall back, cringing and gnashing their teeth.  Millerson cowered behind the elf, having never seen such display of power.  Words he heard spoken in the elven tongue which set the goblins to flight, not even looking behind them, seeking a place to hide from this elf who was more powerful than they had expected.  When the goblins were gone, Starfoot lowered his arms, and rest them on his staff.  He laughed merrily at the goblin's flight, then turned to face Millerson.

    "So, you would presume to wed Keren Woodman, whom we call Elf-friend, Goblin-bane and Teli the jester?  Beware lest she mistake you for a goblin and slay you," said the elf.

    Millerson was afraid, for he was accustomed to looking upon others the way this elf looked upon him.  Such contempt he had never read on another face.  There was a time, as little as three months before, when he could have sent an employee scurrying to his knees, begging for forgiveness with such a look, but that time was past.  Millerson suddenly realized his hands were shaking and his knees were knocking.  With all the will in him, he straightened himself, clenched his fists and stood still.  The elf raised an eyebrow, then without another word, enfolded himself once more into his old man's guise and hobbled back toward town.

    Surely this must be the elf which Old Vines had seen with his grandfather, reasoned Millerson.  He was regal enough in looks, and though he carried no weapon other than his staff, and his hair was maybe a little darker than Old Vines described, it could be.  Suddenly Millerson was angry.  What right did elves have to meddle in the affairs of men?  They were proud and haughty and contemptuous of the mortal lot.  Keren was counted an elf-friend? So be it.  Millerson determined to find the goblins and swear to them he would help them get this elf.  But if he tried to find them now, he was sure they would rend him to pieces.  He would send them another gift, such as he could arrange.  Walking the two miles home he pondered and schemed a way to send them another horse and rider.  Perhaps that knight.  Millerson was sure he could convince him that this encounter with the goblins was a chance mishap, no matter what that elf said.  Along the way, the bells of the tower clanged and clattered in a harsh tolling which distracted Millerson only a little.  They kept up the racket until Millerson was almost at his door.  “Those brats will pay for that infernal noise, if I ever catch them,” he growled to himself.  With these thoughts in mind, he entered his house and cried out in dismay.  The front room was a shambles.  Furniture overturned, thrown and broken.  Tatters of cloth scattered across the room.  One scrap, pinned to the wall by a kitchen knife on which were written in red the words "WE ARE NOW EVEN," was his mother's apron.

    "I heard someone cry out!  What..."  shouted the tavern keeper at the door.  He looked about the room, mouth open, question unfinished as he watched Millerson spring into the other room and come back slowly, head in hands, wailing in despair.  The tavern keeper pushed past him, followed by Black, Green, Seamster and several other townsmen who gathered at the Ringing Well for a pint and a visit.  All they found in the room was a pile of bones on the floor by the hearth.  The men covered their mouths, some crying out in surprise and fear, others turning away and rushing quickly out. The tavern keeper and Black took hold of Millerson and guided him to the tavern.  They made Millerson sit still in a back room, used by the tavern keeper for an afternoon nap, as he rambled and raged, blaming someone without name for all his misfortunes.

    A boy ran for Brown, who came at once with his wife, who brought potions that she knew to give for mental distress.  Brown called for Ereg, but at the mention of the old man's name, Millerson raged all the more so they decided not to fetch him, but to go speak with him.

    The usually gentle old man was quite stern with them when they arrived at the teacher's home, saying there was nothing he could do for Millerson, for he was the cause of his own misfortunes and if there was something he could do, he doubted Millerson would accept his aid.  Ereg stated he would most likely be leaving soon, within the next two or three days at most.  He had had enough of Millersons scorn and foolishness and although he held the other towns people in high regard, he felt it best that he should return home now and cause them no further trouble.  He refused to state specifically what Millerson had done to cause such displeasure but the anger in the old man's eyes was enough to prevent further questioning, even from the Magistrate when he was called.

    The Magistrate, for his part, demanded to know where Millerson had been that evening, for Millerson would only shriek "Ask the Elf!  Ask him!  He knows!  He sent them!"  They assumed this was due to his madness at the loss of his kin in such a horrible manner and took measures to restrain him but he broke free and fled the town.  They knew not where and did not follow for Barber said "Let him go.  He will come to his senses in time.  When next he comes in for a pint, we’ll have him."

    Two days later Ereg set out for the north after bidding farewell to the teacher and those whom he had come to know best.  He sought out Old Vines, for the old man had become a particularly fond acquaintance of late, even though his son chased the minstrel from the shop.

    He stopped by the Woodman farm and visited long with them.  He was constrained to stay the night for they would not permit him to risk a journey after dusk.  Woodman's sons had taken up residence in their own houses on parcels of what had been Miller's land.  They bought the major portion at the land auction and had just recently refurbished the houses to their liking.  Morwen convinced her husband to remain at the old house with Woodman for she would not leave him alone, certainly not after what happened to the old Miller brothers.

    Woodman would have him stay longer for he had grown fond of the old minstrel who knew songs his wife had sung, but Ereg regretfully took his leave the next morning, saying perhaps one day they would meet again.  None could say they would not.

    Onward he journeyed, crossing the river and coming to the old Inn that evening.  He saw Sam and Jack were about, nodding to them as they greeted him on the street and asked him what such an aged gentleman was doing out and about far away from hearth and home.  He chuckled and in his cracked old man's voice, answered nonsensically, inwardly amused that he knew them while they showed no sign of knowing him as they went on their merry way.  But they were young and had not Morfindel’s insight.  The elven lord would soon instruct them on that matter, no doubt.

    He reached the fork in the road the next afternoon where his homeward path bore northward.  Looking about him, for he sensed he was being followed, and not by Jack and Sam, he continued on his way.  Though he thought it too soon to discard his disguise, he hobbled less and strode more surely than an old man would.

    "So you think to escape me!" cried a voice from behind.  It was Millerson.  "You shall pay for the wrongs you have done me!"

    "It is not I who have wronged you," said Starfoot, turning to face the man.  "You have wronged yourself by aligning with goblins."

    Enraged, Millerson sprang at the elf who still in form of an old man, grappled with him and would have prevailed had he not been unwilling to harm Millerson. But mercy to the merciless was misguided and Millerson stabbed the elf between the ribs with a knife.  Wounded, the elf abandoned all gentleness and struck Millerson across the temple a single blow with his walking stick.  With all the strength remaining in him, he fled toward the elven halls and home.

    Millerson knew not what hit him.  He lay on the path unconscious until at last near sunset, he came to himself, still grasping the blood stained knife in his hand. Looking about, he left the road and traveled east, swearing never again to deal with goblins except as their master, and vowing revenge on the elves and the people of Barad Lomin for all time.